I'd Focke that Wulf
by necoyama
Summary: Our protagonist goes for a drive in Nevada. On his journey, he'll discover more than just lots of sand and bad puns - he'll discover the wonderful world of Nasu sex scenes and monologues.


**I'd Focke That Wulf**

TwilightxFate/Stay Night crossover/slashfic

Jacob Black was a very pretty man-of-sorts. He was marginally less pretty than Edward Cullen, but as a Native American living on a reservation, he received a federal grant for beautification products to make up for years of oppression to his ancestors. He was applying liberal amounts of OLAY – JUST FOR MAN-WOLVES: AB-BASTER PRO to his shirtless torso while driving with his left hand. He cruised down the highway in his modified Chevy Silverado, replete with missing roof and soiled bumpers. His favorite motorcycle had taken a part-time job at the casino to pay for an extended stay at the lead-addiction rehab.

"I SMELL LIKE I SOUND, FUCK I DON'T KNOW THIS SONG, BUT I'M HUNGRY LIKE THE WOLF."

The radio blared out 80s New Wave like it hadn't gone out of style, and Jacob sang along with all the class of a crack whore in heat. The wind was hot on his face, the wheel was sticky beneath his fingers, and life was-

Aw shit, is that the fuel gauge light?

Luckily for our BROTAGONIST, he was quickly reaching a lone turnpike some ways up. Jacob applied the brakes like he APPLIED YOUR MOTHER LAST NIGHT, bringing the car to a gentle and controlled stop. A dingy shack was next to the barricade, inside which echoed a man's voice.

"-look, I don't care if you were king of fucking Shitzerland or wherever, 'Servant' means you wear it."

A strapping young lad with red hair came out of the house, a tall and very pissed man in a blue jumpsuit hot on his heels.

"It was Ireland, you bastard, and so help me I will shove this spear down your throat if you so much as suggest I degrade myself to-"

The young man stopped, sighed, and turned around.

"Activate Command Seal – Lancer, put the damn dress on."

With a contorted face simultaneously displaying absolute petrification and sincere bloodlust, the tall blue man walked back to the shack with agonizing slowness, in his large hand clutched some frilly object that he appeared to be desperately trying to crush.

The red-haired youth turned back to our Columbus Day casualty and calmly got down to business.

"Welcome to the Emiya turnpike, also home to Shirou's Pit Stop and Shit Shop. What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, my baby here needs a fill-up. You do that here, right?"

Shirou walked over to our chunk of man-hide's ride, rubbing his hand sensuously across the radiator.

"Oh yes, I believe I can, ah, _satisfy_ her needs. Does this girl have a name?"

"I call her the _Wolf Blitzer_," the _canus manus_ growled proudly.

"I'D BLITZ HER WOLF, AM I RIGHT LANCER?"

"SHUT UP."

"I'll need to finish this up overnight, pal. Why don't you sleep in and let me take care of her?"

"Why would you need to take all night to fill her up with gas?"

"Her accelerator has complications. I can tell because I'm a mage."

"SOUNDS PRETTY LEGIT."

"Awesome. The guest room is in the outhouse. Don't forget to close the lid."

Jacob, generally content to sleep in the doghouse, was fairly pleased with his upgraded accommodations, and gathered his toothbrush and favorite blankie, ready to bed down for the night. He opened the door to the outhouse...

"MORE LIKE 'ACCELERATE HER,' AM I RIGHT LANCER?"

"IF I WEREN'T WEARING THIS DRESS RIGHT NOW..."

...to find a rather large sleeping quarters, complete with a canopied bed and a gaudily bejeweled futon awkwardly positioned next to a gold toilet seat. After carefully positioning his cutest teddy bears on the futon, he lifted the toilet seat to relieve himself.

"FOOLISH MORTAL, IS IT POWER YOU DESIRE? IN MY TAINT YOU SHALL FIND IT. FOR I AM ANGRA MAINYU, AND THIS GRAIL IS SCEPTRE AND CHALICE TO MY MIGHT! NOW DRINK BUT LIGHTLY FROM MY DEPTHS, AND YOU SHALL FEAST ON THE VERY AMBRO-"

Jacob carefully lowered the lid and went to bed.

- MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE GARAGE. -

Shirou stood naked in front of the Silverado, gas cap in hand. He breathed heavily while the V6 motor purred softly in the moonlight streaming from a conveniently placed window. He carefully gathered mana in his pelvis area, reading for the mingled pain and pleasure that always accompanied these kinds of operations. He slowly lowered himself into the dripping hole. His magic manhood carefully touched the waiting loins of the Chevy. In one quick thrust, he-

EEEEEEEEEEEEE-E-E-E-E! SQUEA-E-E-E-E-E-K!

Fucking dolphins. Every time.

**WITNESS THE EXCITING CONCLUSION NEXT CHAPTER. YOU WON'T WANT TO MISS IT. UNLESS YOU'RE A COMMUNIST SYMPATHIZER. TYPICAL RED BEHAVIOR.**


End file.
